


Majestic Power

by Merfilly



Series: Walking along the Moebius [4]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to the zoo, a mystery, and a disappearance...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Majestic Power

Sarah walked alongside the boy as they strolled at a leisurely pace through the zoo. She was observing him far more than she was actually looking at the exhibits, trying to get a grasp on his personality.

"That child is vile," was a frequent comment, or some variation of it. It made Sarah wonder at first, but then it clicked. When Jareth had stolen children as an adult fae, he had merely been releasing the inner nature to the fullest potential.

"Why not make it more interactive?" had been a more alarming comment, given that they were standing near Tiger Mountain. She did not feel the prickle of power rising, but then she was slowly becoming certain he could not actively use his abilities.

"The paths are too easy to follow," he complained at one point. Sarah had to stare at the back of his head for a long moment on that one, memories of a path going on and on forever coming back to her.

Pithy commentary aside, the day was a good one, and Sarah saw the boy smile and even laugh (though how it echoed along her spine, not quite the sound she remembered, yet carrying a pale echo of it) at the various antics of the animals they witnessed. Sometimes, when he would get intent on watching a pair of animals wrestling over a morsel, or just being playful, she could almost forget that he was not a normal boy.

Then he would look at her, uncanny intelligence in his eyes, and that frustration of being handicapped by unknown forces would show, reminding her that he was a very dangerous mystery in her life.

`~`~`~`~`

"Sarah," Jareth called, low and soft as they walked. "I thought red hair was rather an uncommon trait?"

Sarah looked down at him, then out, seeing a thin, gangly man with uneven features and bright red hair to one side, newspaper in front of him just low enough to look over easily. He reminded her of someone, or something, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Typically, especially that bright," she commented, keeping her voice down in response to his.

"Third one I've seen today."

"Well, for New York, that's not so odd," Sarah told him.

"I don't mean auburn or reddish blond, Sarah," he said with a disparaging tone to his words, but he kept his voice low. "I mean that exact shade."

Sarah darted another look over, and the man had folded his paper, tucked it under an arm, and begun to walk way, his gait a little odd, almost disjointed, as he made his way down the street, away from them.

"It's probably nothing," she said, but her thoughts weren't so sure, as her eyes strayed once more to look at the man. She should know him, she felt, and that very impression kept chilling her soul.

"I don't believe in coincidence." The statement was uttered with all the profound might of an absolute monarch.

Sarah had to smile, despite the look of stinging betrayal on the boy's face for her supposed mockery. "What do you believe in, then?"

"Myself, and nothing else!" he told her firmly.

"Perhaps you should find more to have faith in," she told him, still smiling.

"Or maybe you should learn to believe in me as well! Or are you afraid that might solve whatever curse has been laid upon me?" he asked her sharply.

"I need reason to believe in something, oh majesty," she said, meaning it to be playful and teasing. He stuck his pert nose in the air, marching harder for the apartment and ignoring her, as offended as a cat sprayed with water.

They did not speak again that day, leaving Sarah a little unsettled when she went to bed at last, having seen him sitting on her fire escape until the air was too chill for her to endure.

`~`~`~`~`

The apartment was quiet, too quiet for Sarah's peace of mind. She rose, going to look in on the boy.

He was not in her spare room, nowhere to be found elsewhere, and no note left for her in his elegant penmanship.

In fact, she could not find the clothes she had acquired for him, or one scrap of evidence he had been there at all.

The mystery was odd, but she decided he must have sulked off, and would be there when she got in from work.

By day's end, she couldn't quite recall just what she had been puzzling at that morning, and fell into her usual routine. The whole time she was working on lines that night, though, her hands kept going to the tips of the dark, horned mask she kept as a center piece on her sofa table. Touching it pricked at her mind, but never long enough to make memory come fully.


End file.
